Upset
by VegetaCold
Summary: After an accident caused by his father, Danny begins to question why he does what he does, and Vlad is right there to make sure he knows there's no reason he should have to.
1. Chapter 1

Vlad Masters walked out of City Hall with an easy, composed smile adorning his face. He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked down the stone steps that merged with the sidewalk of the busy street bustling with herds of people as they basked in the light, humble sun of the warm Friday afternoon. The schools were just beginning to let out, and while on any normal occasion the presence of teenagers would have bothered him, today he was in a good mood, and found himself offering up a smile of greeting or a small nod of the head to several teenagers passing by in their cars or on bikes or skateboards, and was left in pleasant surprise when the greeting was returned.

He walked along the sidewalk in this manner, his head held confidently, his eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of him, the posture he believed to be that of a competent mayor. A competent mayor: someone who always looked composed and strong no matter the situation, no matter if the town fell into anarchy and he was perplexed with confusion and uncertainty. No, the town had not fallen into anarchy, because it was, in fact, just the opposite, with his direction, of course—society was calm, orderly, and above all, ignorant, too ignorant to realize that it was being led by the broadest example of a dictator. And though the people of the town might take this mask Vlad had put on, this intricately woven costume of composure, at face value, he would be lying if he said he felt how he looked, because despite this good mood he had adopted he felt how one might if the town they ruled suddenly and unpredictably fell into a state of anarchy—he felt confused and uncertain, but not unhappy. In fact, he was unsure how to feel anything but confusion and uncertainty in this situation, because it was neither bad nor good. The fact was, Daniel's momentary disappearance left him feeling for perhaps the first time in a long time without any certain emotion but vacillating neutrality.

It was not so much that Danny Phantom had disappeared but rather simply refused to take action against the impending rain of the ghosts that invaded the town of Amity. At least he did not _believe_ that Daniel had disappeared permanently because he had seen him with his friends the week before in Amity's one and only mall—he'd only gone into the mall with the sole intent to check that the security systems where up to date and that the guards were competent but had found himself hiding behind the counter of a gothic clothing store watching as Daniel and Tucker helped Samantha decide on a pair of spiked faux plugs and wondering to himself why he cared so much what they were doing—as well as when he'd gone to Casper High to evaluate individual teachers' performances to see that they were fit for the job but had directed most of his energy into staring Daniel down through the small rectangular window on Mr. Lancer's classroom door, only to receive first an irritated look from the teen which then morphed into one childish resistance as he silently made faces and discretely picked at his teeth with his middle finger until Vlad took the hint and went away, and of course he had seen Daniel around the Nasty Burger and his friends' homes and his own, so he was sure he had not gone anywhere. But the ghosts hadn't gone anywhere either and were free to terrorize the town until the Guys in White or himself on one occasion recaptured them and destroyed them, because someone had to protect the town and it was obvious Danny Phantom was not going to do it. And what had preoccupied his mind that afternoon while sitting in the large chair in his office as sun spilled in through the window was simple and direct: why?

At first, he had not noticed Daniel's absence regarding the ghosts' activity, but when he had found it necessary that he step in himself and vanquish the malevolent spirits to keep the town at ease he had known that something was amiss. He knew Daniel and his morals, how he strove, since being given his ghost powers, to protect the lives of the innocent at all costs, to be the unknown hero who was satisfied simply seeing that he had brought evil to its knees once again. So where was he? Where was he when he must certainly be aware that his town was suffering due to his absence?

And while this question forced his mind into a state of utter confusion and uncertainty, he could not say he was in the least bit bothered by it, because Daniel's absence was, in plain terms, the key to his success in his plans for future domination of first this backwater town, and then the country, followed by the world. Without Danny Phantom to protect them, the town and everyone in it was totally and completely at his mercy, which was why he had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to take Daniel out of the picture, one way or another. And now, it looked as if the job had taken care of itself, which was why Vlad couldn't say he was necessarily happy about Daniel's disappearance, because he believed that should be his right, not the right of Daniel himself. It was his right to decide Daniel's fate, and it was as simple as that. It was up to him whether or not Daniel lived, whether he lay dead on a battlefield stripped of his dignity or he ruled the Earth beside him and became what he had always longed for—the perfect half-ghost son. He would be the reason Danny Phantom died to this town, whether literally or figuratively.

While Vlad Masters was uncertain whether he was pleased or upset by Daniel's disappearance, he did not force himself to decide, because truthfully it did not matter until he had deciphered exactly why Daniel had not protected his town as he had self-proclaimed. And this was why he had not stayed in his home this afternoon, because he had curiosity that needed to be satisfied. Curiosity, he realized, that could be only be satisfied from the reason it had come to be in the first place.

Fenton Works was only a few blocks down from City Hall, but on the way he happened upon Tucker and Samantha as they walked out of the movie theater together. Instead of walking the rest of the way to Fenton Works, he crossed the street to the movie theater and approached the two of them upon realizing that he had no idea if Daniel would even _be_ at his home. If he was somewhere else, Tucker and Samantha would know, and while he was certain they would be less than keen to share their friend's location with his arch enemy, he was also certain he had ways of making them talk.

"Tucker, Samantha, a word," he called to them, leaning against the bricked wall of the theater and crossing his arms over his chest coolly.

Tucker and Sam turned around and stared at him. Their faces were pale and hardened, their eyes cold and somber.

"It's Sam," Sam said softly, but her voice sounded so pained, so hateful.

"As you must have noticed, my dear, I tend to address people by their full names, and I don't make exceptions, not even for my little badger."

Sam's eyes widened and her mouth fell slightly agape as she turned to look at Tucker, who gently touched her shoulder.

"It's okay, Sam," he said.

Vlad stared at them with an expression of perplexed amusement, smiling slightly. "What?"

Sam said nothing, and Tucker shifted uncomfortably and looked away as he tried to formulate a response. "Well…he's…I…"

Vlad stared at them for a moment more, and then he broke into a beaming smile and dissolved into a fit of laughter. "Oh my goodness, you betrayed him, didn't you Samantha?" he said through laughter. "You and Tucker betrayed him, didn't you? He loved you so much and you went and broke his heart! Oh, this is just—"

"You motherfucking idiot!" Sam screamed, jerking her gaze away from Tucker as she stared into Vlad's eyes, her face twisted in pure, undiluted rage. "He's in the fucking hospital, you prick! His dad almost killed him!"

Vlad stopped laughing and stared at her, the bitter amusement melting away into something of horror and shock. "J-Jack almost killed him?"

"Yes," Sam hissed as she started to cry, "Jack almost killed him." With that, she jerked her shoulder out of Tucker's grip and ran down the sidewalk.

Tucker watched her, unmoving, until he could not see her. Then, he turned to gaze at Vlad. His eyes were filled with hatred and coldness beyond comprehension.

"I guess you finally got what you wanted, Vlad. I hope you're happy."

And, he, too, ran away, leaving Vlad to stare after him in an emotion he did not believe he'd ever felt prior to that moment: guilt.

* * *

><p>AN:

This is just an idea I had and I wanted to write it down and see how it turned out. Sadly, I'm actually ill for once, and I must admit this is not my best attempt at a story, so I appogize, but I'd still like to hear what you have to say. Please review and tell me what you think of this so I know whether or not I should continue it, because I'm already pretty swamped with stories I'm writing for .

Anyway, I actually did enjoy writing this one, but I kept thinking, "Sorry Vlad, but Adam West will always be a better mayor than you." I love that part of that Family Guy episode where he's like, "Every Friday night, I'm a clearance-sale area rug." Endless laughs right there.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this thing, and I sincerely hope you do not get sick, because it's a bitch, I can tell you that.

~VC


	2. Chapter 2

Vlad Masters drove to the hospital later that night in his mayoral limo, though he could have walked, for it was only a short distance from City Hall, but he was much too tired and bilious to do so. He sat inside the limo, wearing his usual sleek black suit and red bow tie, his hands folded neatly in his lap as he waited to arrive. He stared out the window without really looking at the other cars and people that passed. His stare was an absent, removed, because he was too preoccupied in thought to wonder what business the heavily pregnant woman and her husband or the group of rough looking teenaged—perhaps older—boys or the mother and father who walked closely and clung to the hands of their sons while their teenaged daughter who resonated "punk" lagged behind with her hands in her pockets, scowling, had on the streets. He could honestly say he'd never cared less about this backwater town than this night, because now it had become apparent how much they did not matter. And maybe they never had, but with this new development—the sole idea that Daniel had been harmed by Jack Fenton—he began to believe that he had such disregard for the town, enough so that he believed it would jeopardize all of his plans, that he should not even have become mayor.

Now, for the first time, he felt that he was unfit for the position, because he knew that his heart was not into it. Of course, he was not concerned that his heart was not into truly protecting and governing the town, because it shouldn't have been. But rather, he felt that his heart was no longer into his plan, his goal of conquest. He felt now, after having heard that Jack had almost killed Daniel, what belonged to him, he had gone back to his old ways. Becoming mayor of Amity Park had been completely and totally about focusing his energies toward achieving the bigger picture, rather than those small details that would tailor themselves in accordance with those plans. Those small details, finally extracting his revenge and killing Jack, stealing his beautiful and chaste wife, and finally bringing home that one thing he wanted so desperately—a half-ghost son. And now, driving to the hospital to visit Daniel, he felt he had completely forgotten the bigger picture, for now, it was these small details in his plan that he felt most adamantly should be achieved, as soon as possible, no matter if he'd decided he would let them achieve themselves with time and patience. And the fact that he was simply going to visit Daniel reassured that, because with this visit—and a few others, he supposed—he hoped that he would have all of those little details, those desires, achieved.

Yes, after he saw Daniel, he would finally have peacefully taken him as a son and a loyal servant, have gained Maddie's love and her hand in marriage, and would be christened with the ever-present knowledge that he had gotten his revenge and had killed Jack. And all it would take was a little coaxing on his part of Daniel, and this fate would be sealed, and he could move on to his original plans of domination of first Amity and then the rest of the world. For this was the perfect opportunity: Jack Fenton, his father, who supposedly cared for him, had just injured him to the point that people in the town who'd heard of the accident declared it "near death" and thought it was "a miracle that he'd managed to survive something like that", whether it was an accident or on purpose. A call he'd made to the hospital requesting to see Daniel: "He told his friends he didn't want them to worry about him and that they shouldn't visit him. His family came to see him the day of his initial surgery and has not returned since. He hasn't gotten hardly any mail or visitors, so I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you stopped by, Mayor Masters." His family had practically abandoned him in his time of need, leaving him in the hospital, alone, to endure treatment. His friends must have been more than happy to let him be, as they'd been well enough to see a movie. No one, none of his classmates, teachers, friends, or neighbors, had come to see him. All arguments he would use when persuading Daniel.

How weak this knowledge must make Daniel was a delicious thought, almost to the point of being orgasmic, because, in truth, it was all he needed in order to succeed. An idea or concept he could use that would push Daniel—gently, for he would coax, not force—into his servitude and tailor the rest of those small details. He would use this information from the call to convince Daniel that he was completely unwanted by everyone; his family did not love him, his friends did not want the burden of him, and everyone else simply didn't care about him. And when he used this knowledge against him, Vlad would couple it with the idea that he did care unlike the others, that he could provide love, could sit there beside him when he was sick, could give him the time of day when no one else could. And Daniel would be so weak already, so confused, so lost, that Vlad was almost completely certain he would give in and finally, after so long, become that son he'd always wanted. It was simple but sure, and he found himself already mentally visualizing how Daniel would kill his former father, Jack, to prove his loyalty.

"Father," Daniel would say, "what would you like me to do with him?"

Jack Fenton would be bound and gagged, siting stupidly on the floor beside Daniel, squirming to free himself and mumbling inaudibly.

"Tell him how you feel, Son," he would tell Daniel. "Tell him how you feel, and make him suffer the way you have for fifteen years."

"Yes, Father."

He could almost hear the screams. They were glorious.

They pulled up to the hospital and Vlad stepped out, smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

Vlad walked through the hospital's two glass sliding doors and into the cleanly polished but tastelessly decorated reception area. The couches were a dull white, their side tables littered with week old (or perhaps longer) magazines, and a plastic plant with unnaturally dark green leaves sat in a corner collecting dust. Vlad walked up to the receptionists' desk. Behind it sat a young, pretty nurse with short hair that framed her face perfectly. Her small fingers typed on the keyboard of the computer in front of her intensely, her manicured fingernails clicking with each key she pressed. When she saw him out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up.

"How may I help you, sir?" she asked softly and politely. She studied him and smiled. "…Mayor Masters."

Vlad had never much cared for the attention of his adoring fans, but being that he felt it was his duty as mayor, he smiled back at her. "Would you like an autograph, my dear?" he asked devotedly.

Her smile widened. "Thank you very much, but I think I'll save my paper for Bob Dylan."

Vlad chuckled and shook his head, his eyes closed. "I'm hurt," he said playfully, grasping his heart.

"Well, you are in a hospital."

They smiled at each other, and she said, "But I assume you didn't come here for yourself."

"That's correct. Under the circumstances, I feel guilty to be joking like this. I've come to see—"

"Daniel Fenton?"

"How did you know?" he asked, dismayed.

"He was the one you brought up to thank for encouraging you to pursue a career in politics when you gave your acceptance speech in front of the town. It was because you wanted to protect him you put all those restrictions on the kids."

"Oh… I did, didn't I?"

"Yes. I thought you might be in to visit him since it seemed to me you cared so much about him."

"So I see."

"I think I can get you in to see him," she said, typing on her keyboard and staring at the monitor. "You came during visiting hours, of course, but the medications he's taking induce drowsiness. He might not be awake right now."

"I see."

"I'll have someone check on him and we'll see. Why don't you have a seat?"

He smiled. "Thank you, my dear."

Vlad took a seat, picked up a magazine without much interest in reading it, and waited.

Danny Fenton was just beginning to emerge from a deep, unnatural sleep of painkillers and whatever the hell else they were putting in him. He slowly pulled open his heavy eyelids and was greeted with the usual blurred view of his dull, dimly-lit hospital bedroom. He let out a soft moan as the pain began to return (that was, if it had ever left) and the drugs wore off. He felt incredibly dizzy, and he wanted to vomit. His head was aching.

The door opened slowly, and the nurse who'd been taking care of him popped her head in. "Danny?" she asked quietly, hoping not to wake him if he was asleep.

"What…?" he slurred sleepily.

"Oh!" she said cheerfully, and pushed the door open. "You're awake."

"Yeah," he sighed, woken by her shrill, grating voice, annoyed by her usual artificial exuberance. "What?"

"I have great news! You have a visitor!"

Danny's eyes widened hopefully but in disbelief. "I do?"

"Yes. He's on his up now." She turned and started to walk out of the room.

"Wait. Who's my visitor?"

She turned back around and smiled at him. "Our mayor, Vlad Masters."

She left and closed the door behind her, and Danny only stared at where she'd disappeared, his face frozen in horror.


	4. Chapter 4

Moments after Danny watched the nurse leave the room, Vlad appeared in the doorway and regarded him with a small smile that Danny could not place with any certain emotion and eyes that were equally as unreadable. But soon enough, that wasn't so. His expression became one of smugness and condescension but somehow sympathy and concern all at the same moment.

Danny stared at him uneasily, unsure of what to do or say. He did not even know how he should look at Vlad, whether or not he should glare at him with cold eyes and snarled lips. Did he need to put his guard up in the hospital, he wondered? Would the people here protect him from Vlad if he were to attack? Should he try to get up incase he couldn't rely on the doctors and nurses that roamed the hospital? If he didn't get up and they failed to come to his rescue, what would Vlad do? But more importantly, why was Vlad here?

Of course, he was very suspicious of Vlad and it seemed almost natural that he should automatically expect a fight when in the man's presence. He thought that anyone who had the same relationship with Vlad as he-though he was aware that he was probably the only one who did-would feel similarly, and he did not blame himself feeling this way. Danny had visions which were not so implausible then as a result of these associations. He saw Vlad destroying him now and bribing or blackmailing the hospital to claim he had passed away due to the injuries caused by caused his father. A mental imaged followed. He saw his body laid out in a cold metal drawer, a meat freezer, a coffin which laid before his parents.

He sat up then and winced in pain as he did, and Vlad quickly approached his bed and placed his hands on Danny's chest, attempting to push him back down on the bed. Danny's eyes widened in fear as more images formed in his mind. There was a gaping, bloody hole in his chest and blood covering the white bed sheets. He started to thrash very weakly, as much as he could, considering the seriousness of his injuries and the subdued state his medications forced him into.

"Daniel," Vlad said, sounding extremely alarmed. "I'm not going to hurt you. Please, lay back down."

"Like _hell _you're not going to hurt me!" Danny gasped as he thrashed in Vlad's firm grip. "You're _crushing_ my chest!"

Vlad quickly pulled his hands away and Danny collapsed back onto the bed, gripping his chest in agony.

"Daniel, I'm so sorry!" Vlad said, feeling genuinely guilty, and took a small step away from the bed with his hands raised in front of him in a defensive position, concerned he'd be in court by the end of the month for "assaulting" a defenseless child in the hospital. He'd be out millions, he figured, and he'd be out of office for sure. "Here, let me get the doctor," he said hastily, and spun around and started toward the door.

"No, don't get him! Please, just hand me those painkillers," Danny called out to him, and Vlad turned to see him pointing to a small plastic bottle laying on the tile floor that he'd knocked off his nightstand when he'd been struggling.

Vlad frowned. "Are you sure, Daniel?"

Danny nodded rapidly. "Yes, just get it!"

Vlad bent down and picked up the plastic bottle on command. He handed it to Danny who snatched it out of his hands and rapidly unscrewed the top. He dumped the bottles contents on the nightstand, took three pills and popped them in his mouth, and swallowed them with water he had sitting on the nightstand that had managed to avoid his flying limbs.

"Danny," Vlad tried quietly, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want you to sit up because I thought it would cause your injuries more pain."

"Well, great, now I have one more to add to them!" Danny cried sarcastically.

Vlad sighed deeply. "Daniel, I'm sorry. I really am, and you know I don't say that often."

After pausing for a moment to regard Vlad with cold and uncaring eyes, Danny questioned in an irritated tone, his voice threatening and low, "Why are you here, Vlad?"

"I'm here, Daniel, because your absence is apparent when you're the only thing protecting this town from ghosts. I ran into your friends Tucker and Samantha on the street while I was returning from City Hall, and when I asked them where you'd ran off to they told me you'd had an...accident that put you in the hospital."

For a moment, Danny paused in silence, his eyes drooping a bit-it seemed, to Vlad, as a result of sadness-and the snarl of his lips loosening, then said simply, "Oh."

Vlad was silent for a moment as he regarded Daniel, observing his truly weakened state. Then he spoke slowly, gently, "Daniel, what happened to you? Why are _you _here?"

Carefully and shyly, Danny very slowly raised his eyes and looked at Vlad, but quickly averted them again, his eyes darting nervously about the room. Vlad could easily see the pain and humiliation that came with the subject of his accident, so much so that he thought Daniel would refuse to tell him and he'd have to ask someone else to explain as to why he was in the hospital. But then, Danny said, quietly and timidly, "My...my dad was testing an invention of his," he said, sounding clearly ashamed.

"A ghost hunting weapon?" Vlad clarified, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, it was."

"What happened?"

"...He...well, he added some attachment to the assault vehicle...it...well, I guess it messed up the controls or something...and he...he...well...he ended up running me over," Danny said, his voice now barely above a whisper.

Vlad burst out laughing, though it was not at Daniel's pain, but rather Jack's stupidity and his tenancy to fail solely. But of course Daniel did not know that, and he looked up suddenly, his eyes shining with tears and his lips again twisted in a snarl. He clenched his fists as he cried, "Shut your fucking mouth!"

Vlad tried to force himself to stop laughing, but truthfully, he was not only enjoying the prospect of another of Jack's failures, but he was so overjoyed at the opportunity he now saw that controlling his happiness, expressed through his vile, malicious laughter, was nearly impossible. He laughed more heartily as he began to envision his newest plan in his mind and every last detail of it fell into place perfectly and Daniel became his. And his laughter increased, still.

Danny was in so much physical pain, and he was racked with so much emotional pain as well that he could not stop tears from rolling down his cheeks as Vlad's laughter seemed to have pushed him over the edge. "Get the hell out if you're just going to laugh at me!" he screeched, weeping, clenching his fists more tightly and grinding his teeth involuntarily.

Vlad stopped laughing then as it seemed to dawn on him that while now might be his one and only opportunity to win Daniel over, he could destroy it in an instant by expressing even the slightest amount of disrespect of anything Daniel valued (e.g. Jack) as he was now. While he would never and could never respect Jack even slightly, openly disrespecting him would not lull Daniel into obedience, which was, of course, his ultimate goal. Rather, it would do just the opposite. If he laughed now, even if it was not so much at Jack as it was out of blatant happiness, his opportunity would vanish and he would have lost Daniel, so to speak, in the blink of an eye. So, though he struggled to stop, he finally did and whispered very quietly, forcing himself to sound ashamed though he was not, "I'm sorry, Daniel."

Danny buried his face in his hands and said into them, muffling his words, "Just get out of here."

"Danny, I-"

"_Go_!" he screeched into his hands, weeping more violently.

Vlad sighed and did as he was told, for he knew he had already done enough damage. But he was not, by any means, finished with Daniel. When Daniel was calm, he'd go back in and work his magic. Oh yes, he would.


	5. Chapter 5

He left Daniel alone for no longer than half an hour when he cautiously opened the door to the boy's hospital bedroom again. Vlad Masters felt extremely grateful that he had not been intercepted by a nurse, that someone hadn't heard Daniel's incessant wails and gone to check on him. That was quite frankly the last thing he needed, to be pegged as the man who made sick kids cry. He could almost hear the news reporter saying smoothly, "Vlad Masters, mayor of Amity Park, went to visit a boy yesterday he claimed publicly to be so dear to him, who'd been hospitalized after a car accident. When he left the room, Daniel Fenton was in tears and inconsolable. While the reasons for this are unclear at this time, a recent poll taken shows that nearly seventy-five percent of citizens say they don't plan to vote for Masters in the upcoming mayoral election."

He was certain he would have lost the election if he had been intercepted, and he was sure his troubles wouldn't end there. If he _had_ caused injury to Daniel's chest when he'd tried to keep him from sitting up, he could be charged with assault. Suspicion of molestation would surely arise, which was of course completely incorrect, but who was to say if Daniel would be truthful if he was questioned? It was obvious had good reason to be upset; even if every hateful thing Vlad had ever done to Danny Fenton was forgotten, had this man not invaded his privacy by coming here and laughed at his injury? Vlad thought that this alone was enough to cause Daniel to lie in hopes he'd be convicted if he'd been discovered in this feeble state and asked whether or not he'd been raped. And so Vlad was undoubtedly grateful for this good fortune that he had not.

However, he could only hope that the nurses and doctors would not notice his slightly swollen chest and his red, bloodshot eyes, but he didn't think it would be an issue. Vlad was sure the hospital staff was used to seeing patients' eyes red—hospitals were, of course, filled with death and grief and an endless amount of tears, and Daniel's injury did not seem _too _noticeable, especially in his oversized hospital garb. Yes, he thought he would get away with it this time, that was, unless Daniel decided to mention the incident to them _himself_.

In hopes of preventing this, Vlad swung by the hospital's gift shop and bought Danny what he thought would appeal to him—a large, fifty-piece assortment of chocolates and cookies and a large, one pound bag of jelly beans. On impulse, Vlad also purchased a stuffed brown teddy-bear clutching a pink heart in its arms. He thought it would annoy Daniel more than anything, which was, to be quite frank, the only reason he bought it. When Daniel was annoyed, he was amusing. However, Vlad was sure he wasn't pushing it—how could Daniel do anything more than grumble angrily beneath his breath when Vlad had taken the time to go out and buy him a present, childish as it was?

"Danny," Vlad sang, pushing the door open as if nothing had happened merely an hour before. "I'm back."

Danny was laying in bed, reading a Stephen King book uninterestedly, now completely calm, his eyes dry. He did not look up when he heard Vlad enter, and he did not say a word as he glared into his copy of _Misery_.

Vlad stepped in, shut the door behind him, and smiled almost robotically. Glancing at the book, Vlad asked, "I read that when I was in college. How far are you into it?"

Staring hatefully into the book and refusing to make eye contact with the man, he growled, his tone ringing out with irritation, "She cut off his foot."

"Ah."

It became apparent that Danny had no interest in chatting, and he shifted in bed, turning away from Vlad as he flipped the page of his paperback book. Trying to uphold the conversation, Vlad said, "I'm glad that she only broke his foot in the movie. I don't think I could have handled it if she'd cut it off as she did in the book."

Laughing weakly, Danny said, his eyes still unmoving from the manuscript, "Oh, I think you probably could of. In fact, I think you could have done it yourself."

Vlad frowned, his brow furrowing. "Oh, come now, Daniel."

"I'm not joking."

Vlad sighed softly, watching Danny read. "I know you're not."

Danny finally set the book down and turned to glare at Vlad. "I can't read when you won't stop talking. Why are you even here?"

"Well…to give you your gift, of course."

Danny looked at him, surprised. "You got me a gift?"

"Yes, I did. It's just a little something to say I'm sorry," Vlad said, handing over the blue gift bag he'd shoved everything into on his way up in the elevator.

"Oh…well, thanks," Danny said dismissively, taking the gift bag and setting it on the floor by his bed.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Knowing you, whatever's in it is just going to piss me off."

Vlad grinned, unable to help himself. "Maybe."

Danny glanced at the bag, then at Vlad, then at the bag again, and, too "intrigued" to resist, picked it up and pulled out a handful of orange tissue paper, revealing the teddy-bear holding its pink heart.

Danny plucked it out of the bag, looking at it in confusion. "What the hell…"

When Vlad started laughing gently, Danny said, his face hardening in annoyance, "Vlad, are you freaking crazy?" However, this only caused Vlad's laughter to increase. Danny growled, threw the bear at Vlad, and shifted in bed so he now lay facing away from the chortling man.

"Wait," Vlad said, still chuckling. "Your real present is toward the bottom of the bag."

"Screw it," Danny grumbled.

"There's _caaaandiiiieeee_," Vlad sang, grinning from ear to ear.

After a moment, Danny slowly turned over and picked up the bag again.


	6. Chapter 6

"Have your parents been in to see you, Danny?" he asked softly, sitting beside the hospital bed on which the fourteen-year-old boy rested in a plush, faux leather chair which had wheels attached to the bottom, and unlike most people, Vlad Masters, mayor of Amity Park, could easily resist the urge to roll around on the black and white tiled floor like an idiot.

Danny lay in bed, propped up by pillows, slowly eating jelly beans he plucked from the clear cellophane bag sitting in his lap. Vlad noted with amusement and a love for the boy that was so great even he could not deny it that the teenager was carefully picking out all of the toasted marshmallow- and popcorn-flavored beans and throwing them into his mouth. When he came across a licorice-flavored bean, however, he set it to the side. The other beans he seemed to dismiss completely.

Danny now seemed very calm, so calm, in fact, that he had not protested when Vlad sat down beside him, relaxed enough that he easily at the small sugary nuggets without worrying in the slightest what Vlad might possibly have added into them on his way up. The man thought that those pills Danny had taken were the likely culprit of this newly passive state, and that was good; he would have preferred not to engage in a physical or even verbal battle with the boy, and he felt thankful that he now knew how to avoid doing so.

The boy was staring at the television bolted onto the opposite wall, but he was not watching it; in fact, he looked incredibly disinterested in the cartoon that played on the television's small screen, obnoxiously loud and quickly paced it may have been. Vlad noted with that same strange adoration melded with undiluted amusement that the boy looked as though he were sitting in the audience at the Republican National Convention rather than watching the Looney Tunes.

Despite his boredom which appeared to have derived from this old cartoon—for his time, at least—, Danny had not given Vlad a speck of attention since he'd taken the jelly beans from the gift bag, quietly thanked the man, and removed the blue ribbon that had been tied into a lush bow around the middle of the bag. Apparently, he was not capable of eating while he read, and so he disregarded _Misery_ and turned on the television with the remote that sat comfortingly close on the nightstand beside him along with his bottle of pills and cup of water. When Vlad sat down, he didn't even look over. Simply, he stared at the screen but did not watch the colorful, bouncing characters in their animated world it contained, and after perhaps fifteen minutes of observing the boy slowly chew the sticky jelly beans in silence, he had finally tried to engage in conversation again, amused and pleased but also somehow frustrated at Danny's lack of response.

Now, Danny's face did not change…and his eyes did not stray from the screen. He said slowly, distantly, like the voice of a man who has been hypnotized, "They haven't been in. Not in awhile."

Vlad regarded him for a small moment, his previous elation actually _increasing _at this softly uttered statement, for it was becoming ever apparent just how absolutely _perfect _this opportunity really was. His friends and family—but most importantly, what really mattered in all this, his _father_—had abandoned him when he'd needed comfort most. Thus, the boy's mental state—one which had not been in the greatest of condition even before this incident—had weakened considerably, and Vlad thought with great certainty that he must long for a parental figure to sweep into his life and make it all okay.

That, of course, was why Vlad was here.

"Does that upset you, Danny?" he said softly, staring at the side of the boy's head intently. "Do you wish they would visit?"

Danny shook his head with an amazing conviction and said, as Vlad had known he would, "No. It's been nice without them."

"Oh?" Vlad said knowingly, finding it impossible to dismiss the pain in his voice, the sadness that derived from what the boy wanted so desperately but did not have. It became astonishingly obvious that it was all Danny could do to keep himself strong in the man's presence, no matter how badly he may have wanted to see his parents and his sister.

"Yes," he said softly, still staring at the television, now thankful for the excuse it so willingly provided.

"I don't think you're being honest with me, Daniel."

"I am."

Vlad reached out and took one of Danny's mangled hands gently in his; at this, the boy could not keep his eyes off the man sitting beside him and his gaze shifted, though his head did not. "You can be honest with me," Vlad encouraged lightly, slightly rubbing the back of Danny's hand in an attempt to placate. "I promise I will understand."

Danny stared at the man's face for a long moment, stunned into silence by what he saw there. Those eyes were comforting—there was no denying that; those eyes resembled doorways from which warm light spilled, inviting the uncertain stranger to come in with open arms. But there was something else tucked into that expression as well, something the boy had never seen expressed in the face of this man before: was it…affection?

Unsettled by this newly exhibited side of Vlad Masters, Danny quickly pulled his hand back and turned to stare at the screen again.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. "I've told you the truth already."

Vlad regarded him for a small moment, now looking disappointed…and also very pathetic in the sense that he was overcome with the feeling of abandonment. But he soon nodded, knowing that establishing a good relationship with Daniel would take time, and he would simply need to be patient.

"That's fine, Danny," he said, and patted Danny's knee as he stood up. "It's time I leave in any case."

Danny's eyes suddenly widened and he turned instantly, his head and all, to the stare at the man standing over him. It became clear at once that this idea terrified the boy to no end, for he grew very pale and his lips began to quiver slightly, his eyes glinting quickly, the pupils darting skittishly from Vlad's face to the door and back to Vlad's face again, like a young informant fearing for his life as he walks through an empty parking garage after having given a piece of vital information, the kind that can send the accused into the electric chair and have them fried by morning.

"You're leaving?" he asked, struggling to keep his trembling voice steady as he talked.

Vlad nodded, sincerely shocked at the boy's reaction; he had thought with confidence that Daniel would have been _thankful_ to see him go. "I should. I have to get back to feed Maddie."

Danny's expression of terror seemed to amplify then as if he had been internally hoping Vlad had been _joshing _him when he'd said he had to leave. He seemed to fight for control of the muscles in his face, but in the end he was entirely unable to keep this expression—one of undiluted weakness—from surfacing like a newly-irritated pimple. Vlad noted this with great surprise and rapidly increasing alarm, for the idea that the doctors and nurses may be harming him did not fail to cross his mind. Perhaps, he thought immediately, they had discovered his ghost powers and had begun a series of horrifying experiments on him, and his heart fluttered quickly. The man's stomach gave a soft lurch at the idea…and the mental picture that it painted.

In his mind, he could see Daniel lying on a cold slab of metal in a lab located somewhere in the bowels of the hospital, writhing as doctors approached him with glistening silver tools for which served dissecting.

_They didn't even knock him out_, Vlad moaned internally as they began to cut into him and his scream sounded, echoing throughout the place chillingly. _They didn't even…_

"Danny," he said after he'd finally managed to shoo the remainder of this image from his mind. "Danny, have they been doing things to you here?"

Danny looked briefly shocked, but after a moment he shook his head rapidly. "No, no! They've all been nice."

"Then why do you look so upset?" Vlad said, staring at him with wide and startled eyes. "What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing," Danny said quietly, twisting the fingers of one hand painfully with those of the other in a nervous fashion. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Do you want me to stay with you? Is that it?"

"No," Danny said with that same hastiness, that of a rabbit being chased by a hungry fox. "No, I don't."

"I think you do, Daniel, and that's fine. I'll stay. Maddie can wait another hour or so for her dinner," Vlad said, and gave the boy a small, reassuring smile.

Danny, in turn, looked disgustedly at him, some of the control of his muscles returning with the idea that Vlad might begin to believe he was so weak he needed to be pitied; and maybe he _did_, but he certainly did not want to give Vlad Masters, his arch enemy—or so he told himself—the opportunity to do so.

So he said, despite the fact that he did not mean it in the least, his tongue chipping at the dam that contained the bulk of his emotions until it broke and flooded his mouth, "Like I'd want to put up with you for another hour! I didn't even want you here in the first place! It's obnoxious enough to have to see you every day, but now you think you're going to babysit me too?"

Vlad's soft expression soured and Danny was briefly reminded of the moment so long ago when he'd cruelly built the man's hopes up and brought them down swiftly again, calling him his "new dad" and inviting him into a hug only to attach the belt his father had created and short out his powers with that stupidly named device of his. And just as he had then—or afterwards, when he'd had a good deal of time to reflect on the experience—he felt terrible.

"Fine, Daniel," Vlad said, glaring down at the boy with eyes that gleamed coldly but glazed with hurt, the expression of someone who has been insulted to the point of tears but still struggles to keep himself composed so he may offer a redirection. "At least Maddie can't _tell _me how much she hates me."

With this, Vlad turned and stormed out of the room, kicking the teddy bear which held the pink heart out of his way and across the room as he did.

Danny stared at the door for a long moment, his stomach churning violently, and up came the hospital food he'd eaten for lunch an hour or so earlier—slime-like mashed potatoes and dry roast beef with something that resembled broccoli but certainly didn't _taste _like broccoli. When his vomiting had stopped, he lay back down, curled tightly into a ball with much difficulty, but less than it perhaps would have been if he hadn't taken his painkillers, and began to weep.

The nurses heard him and rushed in.

* * *

><p>AN:

"That, of course, was why Vlad was here." *AUTHOR BEAMS*

Please, please, PLEASE review, and I will update soon.

~VC or DM/P


	7. Chapter 7

As Vlad Masters sped away from the hospital in his long, black mayoral limo, his mind was racing rapidly with ideas of success in his conquest of Daniel, ideas which materialized quickly and with ease, and that, in all truthfulness, seemed to have been driven by a newly-cultivated anger inside him. For, the man's brain was not solely wrapping itself around his plan of action, but also raging with the idea that he had reached out to Daniel only to be shot down as cruelly as he had. It was not so much the knowledge that the boy was so disgusted with him he did not desire to be in his presence—that vibe always seemed to radiate from Daniel, and it did not surprise him in the least—but rather the knowledge that the boy would _dare _refuse him after he'd shown kindness in his time of need. It was as if the boy did not understand that he did not _have _to coax him in this way; if the boy knew anything, Vlad thought, he would have realized that if he'd really wanted to, he could have converted him a very long time ago—or destroyed him, for that matter. If Vlad Masters had truly _needed _the half-ghost child in his life, already the boy and he would reside in his castle in Wisconsin, watching a riveting Packers game. But he didn't; rather, he thought that the boy's presence in his life would be calming, and very desirable, and he would have _liked _it. He also would have liked their new life together to begin positively—and it was, as he'd come to learn through experience, much less complex to cajole rather than force—and perhaps this fueled him to treat the boy who lay in the hospital bed as if he were a child of his own. But because he didn't _need_ the Ghost Boy, he did not need to waste his efforts winning him over, either.

Later, the man would decide he had lied to himself that night as he sat in the back of the limo, looking out at the streets of Amity Park with hardened eyes, because he would soon discover that he _did_, in fact, need the Ghost Boy. And stranger still, he would speculate, his desire to please the child almost surpassed this need, for his goal of enticing the boy would always seem so far gone, no matter the circumstance. Perhaps his anger, which seemed at its peak on this night, had caused him to think in such a manner—that was, Danny's poor behavior prior to his accident had not helped, but this refusal of Vlad's new apparently peace-keeping mindset seemed the straw that broke the camel's back. And while the man perhaps should have expected this, for he had turned down the boy when he'd offered himself up peacefully—and it was no mystery why Danny had done what he'd done tonight—it still infuriated him beyond comprehension, because his soured outlook on life seemed to suggest that the boy was simply refusing so blatantly to let him in than, say, having trouble coping with those demons spawned by the man's horrendous past actions—specifically the ordeal with his sister Jazz and the Ectosuit, which struck something especially sensitive in him—jealousy, maybe?

He was angered at Daniel this night, but his aggression had become very displaced, and soon enough he was hollering to the driver of his limo to head for the home on the street with the neon Fenton Works sign and the spaceship-like structure atop it. As it always did—a shield from guilt, perhaps?—Vlad Masters began to list his reasons for doing so, and while he might have labeled this trip as being reserved for catching up with his two college pals, his intent, similarly as always, wavered so drastically that his brain had to work twice as hard to even vaguely convince himself of its sincerity. Behind the cover of reminiscing in the memories of his college days, Vlad could imagine himself cornering Jack, and transforming into Plasmius as he hissed, "You aren't to kill what is mine, you fool. You aren't to ever lay a _hand _on him again." The boy's sister, for whom he felt hatred of such high degree it paled in comparison to the anger he felt for Daniel now—anger that was really a father's irritation with his willful son—Vlad Masters fantasized similarly, because he did not take kindly to being used as he had when she'd come crying to him in search of assistance. The mother, Jack's wife, and his long-lost lover, Vlad disregarded, perhaps in a feeble attempt to salvage the image he'd formed of the woman—a beautiful mother and wife who couldn't hurt a fly…and if she did, who would be remorseful enough to at least _stay_ by that fly's side in its time of need. In Vlad's mind she was a woman who could do no wrong, and he did not want to tarnish this idea he'd formulated on Daniel's behalf—yet. That night, speeding toward Fenton Works, it was already becoming apparent that he would, in the end, be forced with the decision he'd always known he would need to make at one point or another; in the end, he would need to chose between Danny Phantom, his not-so-perfect half-ghost son, and Maddie, the girl who had betrayed him in college and left him to rot in the hospital but for whose body he would lay up in bed into the late hours of the night, masturbating furiously as he undressed the picture he'd hung of her on the adjacent wall with his hungry eyes. And though his anger with the boy had hindered his confidence in this, he felt as though he could not love Maddie Fenton, even if Jack was to suddenly die and she was left to spend the rest of her days as a widow, for something about the woman came across as very tainted now—that was, he felt that he could never make love to her with the knowledge that Jack, the man whose voice alone made fury flare up inside him, had put himself inside her and created these two children of theirs. Daniel, unlike his mother, seemed very clean—still unaffected by the oaf he was forced to call his father, and though he inherited a good deal of Jack Fenton's raggedy features, his brain seemed to derive solely from his mother. It would seem the boy could escape relatively unscathed now—perhaps slightly scarred from the years of humiliation he endured because of his father's antics—if he were to come to his senses. Because, having his mother's brain meant that he was very smart…but also meant that he would make incredibly unwise decisions, decisions which would always be looked on by outsiders with undiluted confusion, that _why would he do that? What does he see in so and so?_

Yes, Daniel seemed to arouse something bright and so incredibly alive inside him; it excited him, and provided him with untold amounts of comfort, the realization that someone who was not himself shared his pain. It made him strangely _giddy_ to think that he could go conquering realms in the Ghost Zone with another halfa like he, that he could pass the knowledge he kept constantly bundled tightly inside him onto someone else, someone young and relatively inexperienced in the matter, and instill a new happiness in him with the relief of being in control. Maddie, however, evoked something else in him—while at the thought of Daniel his heart skipped to a butterfly's wing-beat, the image of his mother made it thud as if it had been covered with cloth and someone had taken a large mallet and continuously struck it. Oddly, the sensation made him feel incredibly heavy, _claustrophobic_, but it also evoked feelings of being so far gone from reality, like a child locked away in his room while his best friends play football outside his window, or a man buried alive in an oblong box who can hear the proceedings of his funeral above him but cannot call out to those souls who have gathered there for him—those of the living world.

_It's like she's standing right in front of me and I'm running after her with that slowness of a dream, but I can never catch her. _Vlad mused when his heart began to beat with this diluted thud, and he was clutching his chest as he did. _If I reach out to touch her, she just disappears._

So while he might harbor emotions of anger toward the boy now, he could not deny the excitement that caused his heart to flutter lightly with the idea that soon he would be his to rule alongside of and to watch the football game on Sunday with like fathers and sons should. For soon, he would have dealt with his parents…_both _of them, and while Vlad's mind had a way of so artfully disguising the truth, one thing remained clear—once he was done with them, they would never see Danny Fenton again. He would make sure of it.

Chuckling bitterly, the man exited the limo and walked swiftly up the cracked concrete steps of Fenton Works. One hand behind his back, his face twisted in a snarl, he reached out and rang the bell.


	8. Chapter 8

He hadn't meant to pound on the Fenton's door with the force that he did, but in the end he knocked so violently that the hinges quivered. His fist was clenched so that his knuckles went white; his face twisted almost unconsciously, the lip drawn up in a disgusted snarl. If anyone had been there to witness this enraged display, they would have not thought the man in his neatly ironed suit to be the same man they'd come to know as Vlad Masters, the composed and all-knowing mayor of their town, the person who could plug any leak that sprung in their society, cure any heartache, keep them at ease, for he had never looked more as though you could take him to the poker table and have made all of the cash in his pocket your own within thirty minutes.

Inside, Jazz Fenton was sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room, working feverously to make a get-well and apology card for her brother, because it had been brought to her attention that Danny had not known her to have been gone when his accident had taken place, touring colleges as she had been for the last several months—though Danny had always told her this was unnecessary, because she was only a junior and it was, after all, only January, she reasoned that she would have a better chance of being accepted into the college of her choice if she began the procedure earlier than others. Of course, they would have accepted her at Harvard if she'd shown up on the day classes began in the fall, requesting to take part, but she wouldn't, because that was so incredibly unlike her, and though it was really very unnecessary, she found she enjoyed the normally tiring process more than she would going to the mall with a few friends and a hundred spot in her pocket. And she enjoyed this cross-country touring so much that she had not returned on the day she'd originally told her parents, sidetracked by thoughts of which shining building she would spend the next four years of her life inside, and to her knowledge Danny was left with the impression that she had been home for two days already and had not bothered to even _attempt _make contact with him. She had tried to call him twice; the first time, she had been informed that Danny was undergoing another round of surgery. The second, she was told he was resting and would not be able to talk. Upon questioning the all-too cheery receptionist of times when she could come in to visit him, the woman told her they were not accepting visitors just yet—"He's been in and out of surgery, and he needs to rest," she'd said after Jazz had begun to cuss into the phone, which was a rarity in itself, because Jazz had a tenancy to cringe whenever the _H-E-double toothpicks word_ was uttered. "I suggest you talk to your mother and father, ma'am. They are aware of the regulations and have thus far cooperated." In response to which, Jazz had snapped into the phone before abruptly hanging up, "Yeah, well, I'm not my mother and father."

She had sat down with her mother shortly after—her father, she'd come to realize within an hour of being home, had retreated to his bedroom upstairs where he had lain in bed since the accident, weeping helplessly—and was met with relatively the same response. Yes, her mother knew of the regulations because she had tried to see her son, and so had her father, and this was not so surprising as the knowledge that her parents were actually _thankful _for the refusal of their entrance. Upon looking into her daughter's disbelieving and despondent eyes, she had guiltily admitted that she and her husband were not ready to face their son after what they had done, especially after having talked to Danny once—or rather, _her _talking to him, because he had not said two words to her, and in his silence she could hear he was breathing heavily as if infuriated and attempting to control the overlying emotion. This, Jazz supposed she could understand, although the hospital's failure to accommodate them did not suit her quite as well; the fact was, she loved her brother and could not stand to think of him lying alone in a hospital bed in the midst of all those beeping and buzzing machines, especially if he was overcome with the idea that she had known of his accident from the beginning and was ignoring him as it would appear his parents and anyone else who was close to him—mainly Tucker and Sam—were doing. And so, instilled with the desire to show him she had never stopped caring for him, especially in his time of need, she promised herself she would call the hospital later tonight. But this seemed to fall flat, because she found she could not sit here in this house and simply watch something on television while the knowledge that her baby brother was undergoing surgery in a cold hospital bedroom festered in the not-so-far-back section of her mind, and so she decided to dedicate this time she had to herself—time that seemed to drag on endlessly, and understandably so—to focusing on her brother as he so rightfully deserved. She'd begun to write a letter, explaining their absences and reassuring him that they would be in to see him as soon as they could. Though she was not the artistic type, she had been trying to draw a picture of Danny's ghost dog, Cujo—the name had made her very proud of her brother, because it was news to her that he'd actually _read _a book, especially something by Stephen King—in an attempt to cheer him up, when Vlad's angry knock sounded.

Her mother was busy trying to comfort her sullen father who still lay in his bed upstairs as he had for several days, and so she stood up to answer it, brushing a jumble of colored pencils—she had picked from a fifty-pack of colored pencils, and she'd spent maybe twenty minutes leafing through greens and reds and grays for the shade she was looking for—off her lap as she did. She went to the door and peered through the peephole, frankly alarmed at the violent nature of the knock, thinking it was a messenger from the hospital with ill news but knowing that made little sense—it wasn't as if they lived in ancient Greece, after all. They may be reluctant to let Danny on the phone, but surely they themselves would call to report his failed surgery if the need arise.

When she saw it was Vlad Masters, appearing angrier than she'd ever seen, instantly she was instilled with a strong urge to leave the man standing on her doorstep, to deny him entrance into her once so familiar and comfortingly zany home, because the lord knew all the negativity her mind had associated with him and every purpose he served; although, it seems rather uncalled for that Jazz Fenton had, in reality, kept this pessimism in check until the fateful day in which she'd gone to his home in hopes of discovering his secrets to impress her cynical brother. The entirety of these feelings had been fully unleashed the moment Vlad had pitted them against one another on the field of his stadium so they might vie for his affection, because before this day, she had no other basis for her hatred aside from Danny's tales of his encounters with the man, which she had dismissed as unreal, and understandably so. While it seems that if one were to, oh, say, _watch _the life of Jasmine Fenton, or anyone in relation to the man, for that matter, said person would be left to wonder just how _dumb_ you'd have to be to mistake Vlad Masters for anything other than evil, but the idea that there might be another halfa in existence—and one so amazingly _close_—is just as great a quandary. Of course, as seems to be the case time and time again throughout the history of many people in existence, it had occurred to Jazz that since discovering the mayor's identity, it had all begun to make _sense_. The idea that he was half-ghost like her brother would explain the entirety of his odd behavior, and while this revelation had instilled her with such great knowledge that she was overcome with the idea she'd been born again, it had also possessed her with a great fear, one that never truly dimmed even in her happiest of moments. It really _was _ever-present, because whenever she came upon the image of the man's face, even with his diplomatic, mayoral smile plastered onto his pale lips, she felt a chill snake its way up her spine and close around her throat, cutting off her supply of air. And now, staring at his distorted but clearly wrinkled face, the eyes burning with clear, undiluted rage, the feeling amplified to extents she hadn't thought possible, and for a moment she thought the lack of oxygen would cause her to faint. Unfortunately, when she reached out to stable herself, for she had begun to dreamily sway, she took the handle; as she fell backwards, unable to keep upright, she tugged the door open—sadly, it did not open outwards if you happened to be leaving—and she found herself on the ground between the door and the wall that flanked it on the side the hinges sat. For a moment, she lay there dazed, but the sound of cleanly-polished shoes tapping gently on the carpeted floor soon seemed to draw her back into reality.

Dizzily, she looked up and found herself staring into the enraged eyes of Vlad Masters…and much to her horror, the rage mounting further.

* * *

><p>AN:

You know, as I kid I never understood that Stephen King reference. I guess I just thought of it as a goofy name Danny had come up with for his dog, but after I fell out of Danny Phantom for awhile and got into Stephen King, it all seemed to click and I said really loudly in the middle of a Barnes and Noble, "Oh butterbiscuits." at my discovery. Of course, my mom, who loves Stephen King, picked up on it and was probably laughing about it when I made her watch Danny Phantom with me when I was little.

Although, I've come to believe that Cujo is not actually Danny's dog's name. Rather, I think it was just one of his witty remarks in which he compared his dog to the rabid dog of Stephen King's mind, because the dog didn't have a collar or anything like that. Then again, no one ever told Danny the name of Vlad's alias was Plasmius, but he figured that out, too...

Either way, this is the second Stephen King reference I've made in this story, but I'll tell you, Cuj' has nothing on Annie Wilkes. That dog whimpers at the sight of her ;)

Please let me know what you think, and I will update soon.

~DM/P


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